Yuzu Kosho

My housemates back in college used to talk about suffering from condimentia. When it comes to spicy, so do I. And how. The fridge is loaded with Sriracha, harissa, Tapatio, Korean pepper paste and Thai chile sauce.

You know I like spicy. The hotter the better is my quiet motto. I don't just sprinkle crushed red pepper on my pizza, I am compelled to add habanero flakes. I'd like to eat at Jitlada and Chung King on a weekly basis, just to satisfy my heat needs.

So when I find a new condiment that satisfies my cravings for fire, I am pretty well delighted. This time, I can thank the Japanese. Yuzu Kosho or yuzu pepper paste isn't punishingly hot. The heat of green chile is balanced by the citrusy tang of yuzu and an ample dose of salt. Yuzu-Kosho has a slow savory burn.

I picked up a little jar of the paste at McCall's Meat & Fish Company in Los Feliz a few months ago. I'm now well into my third. I see you can purchase it on Amazon, but I can't vouch for the brand simply because I haven't tried it. No doubt you'll find it at thoroughly stocked Asian markets.

The pickle-green condiment would be stunning in ceviche. It really is gorgeous on fish. I roasted some Bass coated with olive oil, lemon juice, and Yuzu Kosho on high heat and it turned out beautifully. You don't want to overdo it with the pepper paste, so as to avoid overwhelming the delicate flavor of the fish. Very nice on chicken too!

In the end, my favorite way to enjoy Yuzu Kosho is with beef. The bloody meat is carried to an entirely new level thanks to the salt, heat and acid of the pepper paste. I liberally spoon it onto rare steaks, and -- this may sound nuts -- I love it on hamburgers. A couple dollops right on the charred meat, just below the grilled onions. Divine.

Shabu-Shabu House

Back in 2004, when I started this blog for the first time, I began with some ruminations about the point and the method of shabu shabu.

It was thanks to my sweet friend, Mike, that I got turned on to Shabu-Shabu House in Los Angeles in the first place. I was deeply skeptical, but he promised that if I gave it a couple of tries I would soon become an addict.

Well, that was an -- understatement.

But here's the deal. I don't know if I like it anywhere else.

I've tried it in San Francisco, and just across 2nd Street in Little Tokyo. I did not like them Sam I Am!

I speculated previously about whether it was the amazing sauces at Shabu-Shabu House that had me hooked. The secret-recipe sesame sauce (it does have a little peanut in there, too) and the house-made ponzu are fantastic. I've been guilty of asking for thirds of the sesame sauce on more than one occasion.

Certainly, the quality of the beef plays a role here. It is well-marbled (you can ask for lean if you prefer, but why would you?) and it possesses a lot of good beefy flavor. These are not thin slices of generic meat.

You can in fact pre-order aged rib-eyes from Shabu Shabu House for the Fourth of July.

The vegetables, tofu, and udon noodles deserve a mention. I'm especially fond of the Chrysanthemum leaves. They have a satisfyingly bright bite.

Please be careful when cooking the udon! They are almost as hot as molten sugar and for me, rather unwieldy, flying through the air. Once a noodle flung back at my hand and I suffered a huge blister on my index finger.

This is dangerous food!

Someone once told me that the vegetables were more suited to the ponzu sauce and the beef to the sesame. Is this true?

I'll openly confess my lack of concrete knowledge regarding shabu shabu. I assume there is a refined technique out there -- the ultimate way to shabu shabu. I, however, am flying by the seat of my pants.

The dilemmas begin as soon as you sit down. What do you do with that pot of boiling water? Am I a fool for adding soy and chile oil? Do only the awkward novices add the sliced green onions to the water? Do the purists leave the water alone?

I am constantly checking out the action around me, searching for some insight. Ridiculously, I have never just asked the proprietor for his advice. And he is a pretty nice guy in the end.

So this is what I do. Please feel free to chime in and point out the many errors of my ways. I want help!

I add soy sauce, chile oil, shichimi togarashi, garlic, and sliced green onions to the pot. I do realize that those green onions are well suited to the ponzu, but my belly just can't handle raw onions the way it used to when I was a kid.

I throw in only some of the cabbage (I want it to last!), the carrots, the larger pieces of green onion, and some of the Chrysanthemum (another lasting issue). I hold off on the udon and the tofu. In go a few slices of beef.

It's embarrassing the way I dunk the beef in the sesame sauce. I know I'm over-doing it. I know people are looking askance. I can't help it. There is no polite dip with me. I completely submerge the meat, swirl it around, and then drop it on the mound of rice, hoping that enough sauce falls off the meat to drench the rice, but that enough still remains on the meat, for the perfect bite. Shake over a little more shichimi and/or drizzle a little chile oil, and place in mouth.

It's magnificent.

I continue on in this manner, swirling, swishing, dipping, dunking.

At one point in my life, I thought it was absurd to go to a restaurant to cook your own food. Silly girl, this is way too much fun!

In the end, after I have cooked the tofu, and hopefully avoided scalding myself with wet noodles, finished the meat and nearly all of the rice, I ask for a spoon.

The one time that A. came with me to Shabu-Shabu House he asked me if I knew what I was doing.

Certainly not, but I don't care. I cannot just turn my head as the broth that I have brewed is carted away. For that is what has happened. After all that cooking the boiling water has become a wondrous, garlicky, beef broth. I spoon a little over the remaining grains of rice and happily slurp it up, my face glistening with perspiration.

Shabu-Shabu House

127 Japanese Village Plaza Mall

Los Angeles, CA 90012

2010 Saveur 100, #25

My absolute favorite issue of Saveur each year is the Saveur 100. It sparks a crazy desire in me to consume, cook, and splurge on many of the items listed. How else would I have ended up with dried mulberries in my pantry? I forget which year that was...

This year did not disappoint. I must get a hold of #93, Lingham's Hot Sauce. I know with all certainty that I need flour sack towels, #60, so that I can finally dry my wine glasses lint-free.

I was especially delighted to stumble over #25, The New York Times International Cookbook by Craig Claiborne. My mother has been cooking from that book for us my entire life.

When I went to college and first started to cook for myself, I wanted to follow in my mother's footsteps. She was my inspiration –– the best cook I knew. I scoured the used bookstores looking for her cookbooks.

I've had my own copy for years, copyright 1971. That's one year before I was born. It's categorized by countries and offers recipes from Barbados, Dahomey, France, Morocco, Trinidad and beyond.

Tonight I'm cooking from the Japan section... Beef Teriyaki I.

Perhaps the name won't win you over, but the simplicity of the recipe should. I've been eating it forever. Here's my take:

Beef Teriyaki I

1/3 cup sake or dry sherry
1/3 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. grated or minced fresh ginger or 1/2 tsp. ground ginger
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 lemon, thinly sliced
1 to 1 1/2 lbs. flank steak

Combine the sake, soy sauce, sugar, ginger, garlic, and lemon and stir until the sugar is dissolved.

Add the flank steak whole and marinate for a half hour or longer.

Take the meat from the marinade and pat dry.

Heat the marinade in a small pan. This will be your sauce. Don't be alarmed by how thin the sauce is. It will still be delicious.

Cook the meat under the broiler for approximately four minutes per side until meat is cooked no more than medium rare. If you are afraid of your broiler, like I am, feel free to cook in a pan on the stove. Hot pan, vegetable oil... four minutes per side until just past rare.

Slice against the grain and serve over rice with sauce.